Second Confrontation Prey Pt 2
by Lotrjunkie009
Summary: the story continues...almost a year later, a young agent's recent past, which she has avoided, is about the catch up with her in a big way complete R
1. ch 1

The Second Confrontation

11:37 P.M. CIA Division Headquarters, Central North East

The computer screen in front of me finally went black. After fifteen hours of sitting at this desk, my eyes were bloodshot and my brain felt a little like jell-o. I stood and I'm pretty sure that every bone cracked. The sound echoed off of the walls of my office. I struggled to put on my blazer. I was exhausted.

I grabbed my briefcase and finally left the office. I dragged myself down the hallway into Central Command. The night team, which began their shift at 6 pm, was working diligently at their computer stations.

Head Tech dude Bryan looked up from his system, "Jack, you're still here? Do you know what time it is?"

I nodded, "Yes, I know what time it is, thank you."

"Jack, you know," he started again. He ran through this speech at least once a week, if not more. "What happened wasn't your fault. Bosse (our divisional agent) knows it wasn't your fault. He's just following protocol. Give it a couple more months, everything will blow over. C'mon, Villerosi, you're the best we have. Who else would spend four months working 24/7 on a low level drug case being run out of a trailer park?" Bryan said with a smile.

I looked at him. You know if I were remotely attracted to Bryan, I would have kissed him then. I had heard this speech at least twenty times since I had returned from my two month leave of absence. "Thank you, Bryan. I'll see you in about six hours, okay?" I said. He just inclined his head.

The elevator dinked up three floors. Oh yes, I went from the leader of a global intelligence team to an agent with minimal clearances and a basement office. My replacement on the Kirill case, Alexander Pantos, was graciously keeping me informed for my own safety reasons as he put it. It was more like, I am the only living agent to have survived an encounter with the man therefore I was an extremely reliable resource.

The elevators doors opened; I trudged out. The garage was empty except for the fifteen or so cars that belonged to the night shift. My car was parked on the other side of Bryan's in the left side. I reached my car and reached into my pocket. My keys were stuck, probably on a string. I laid my briefcase on the roof. I leaned down to peer into the pocket. I fought with the keys from several seconds. Finally, they slid out.

I sighed. All I wanted was to get home and go to sleep. Nothing was easy anymore, not even opening a car door. I slid they key into the lock. I heard the click as it opened. Then, there was a quick sensation of pain across middle as I was thrown from behind into the door.

I was pinned against the door. I struggled at first, trying to knee my male attacker. No luck, this guy was just too big. My face was crushed against the glass, "Did you miss me Baby?"

"I sure as hell did not. Let go of me," I said.

Drake threw me off of the car and onto the floor, "I sure have missed you." I froze as I saw him. He was no longer the ugly gorilla, now he was a mutilated gorilla. His left shoulder hung grotesquely low. There was a scar that ran up from beneath his shirt up, over his face and into his hairline. His left eye was unfocused as well. "Yes," he started as I begin to move backward slowly on the ground, "This is what he had done to me. Just imagine what he'll do to you when he gets his hands on you." He laughed gaily, then abruptly stopped, "But, Baby, I've tracked you for three months to this city. I've been watching you in your house on June Street. I am going to do you a huge favor..."

I cut him off as I got back up to my feet, "And what's that?"

He smiled, "I'm not going to let him get you. He will not disturb a hair on your head." I was tempted to ask why. He must've sensed my question, "Relax, Baby, Kirill isn't gonna get 'cha cuz I already got you and you ain't gonna be alive much longer."

And there was my answer. It was pointless to run. He could most likely out-run me. He was also probably packing and could easily shoot me in the back. Although on the other hand, getting shot in the back would probably save me some hours of relentless torture. I had a lot of options to weigh, it seemed.

"You're not going to run, Baby? Wow, I'm tempted to fuck your brains out before I blow them out now. All that pent-up tension that's following through your veins right now..." he had a sick grin on his face.

"You make me ill. I'd sooner turn a gun on myself than let you touch any part of me," Ok, so, this wasn't a good thing to do. After all, he was a lot bigger and stronger than me. And he showed it, when he whacked me across the cheek with the barrel of a .45.

Before I could pull myself up, he had done it for me. He dragged me across the garage and threw me into the door of a (what else?) Mercedes, "Get in."

I opened the door and slid into the leather seat. He climbed into the passenger seat and cuffed me to the steering wheel. He punched the keys into the ignition, "Drive to your house, Baby."

I could feel a trickle of blood running down my chin. Still, sometimes, I do not know when to quit, I suppose it's one of my faults. I turned to him, "Can't we take my car? It will save me a cab ride to work tomorrow."

He chuckled, shook his head and brought the gun down hard into my thigh. I slumped forward as pain shot through body. I swallowed with much difficulty. I opened my eyes and stared straight ahead. He lightly patted my throbbing leg, "That's a good Baby." He started the car, "Now drive."


	2. ch 2

I pulled into my driveway. Drake threw the car into park and killed the engine. He got out and walked around the car. He opened my door and let me out. I stepped outside, hoping that one of my nosy neighbors would be outside. No such luck, they were all probably asleep. Drake slapped one cuff back onto my right wrist and began dragging me towards the back porch.

I noticed that my kitchen light was on. I never left the lights on. Drake had probably paid my house a visit during the day. He turned the knob and the door opened. Ok, he definitely had been here, my door was always locked. He pushed me inside and slammed the door shut.

I could deal with the cut on my lip, even the ache in my thigh, but this guy had fucked with my house and that's not cool. My kitchen and adjourning dining room were torn apart. Literally. The table was now in three large pieces. All the chairs were upturned; some looked broken. A couple of the paintings hung crooked on the walls. My eyes shifted around the room slowly. The oven looked okay, but the fridge was open. Now he had really gone too far.

"You are the worst house guest I've ever seen," I said.

From behind me, he leaned over my shoulder, his hand gripping my hip, "Baby, are you trying to irritate me?"

"If only it were worth it," I said grimly. He let out a puff of air and spun me around. He stared down at me. He ripped the clip out of my hair, which hurt very much, because my hair had been up in an elaborate French twist. He grabbed the front of my blouse and crushed me against him. I immediately struggled to get away from him.

He laughed, "Baby. Baby, what's wrong? Can't handle being with a real man?" I stared up at him. I wasn't angry anymore. I wasn't upset. I was numb again, just like I had forced myself to be whenever anyone alluded to or mentioned Kirill.

Maybe the big ape was smarter than I thought because he looked at me strangely. Could he sense what I was thinking? Had he actually followed me that long that he knew how I reacted when someone said anything about what happened in Berlin? "Let's go, Baby. I would hate for us to have to remember and reminisce about what's occurred in the past. I'd rather just think about the present," he said.

He dragged me into the dining room. He lifted a chair up off the floor and placed it in the center of the room. He sat me down and secured the cuffs tightly. Now, I was really stuck. I wasn't sure how I was going to get out of this one. I probably wasn't. I was slowly coming to realize that I hadn't been to smart the past several months. After being exposed as an agent, I should have left the agency and disappeared somewhere until after Kirill was finally nabbed by someone else. Well, too late to think about that now.

Drake paced in front of me. "You know, you've caused me all kinds of trouble. I lost my job, almost was killed. Then, I had to take care of your friends there."

"What did you do to Venus and Gwyneth?" I demanded.

He grimaced, "They brought an agent to me. They let you in. They had to be dealt with accordingly."

"They had nothing to do with me and you know it!"

"Well, that's the price you're going to have to pay, knowing that YOU are responsible for their untimely deaths a few months ago," he spat out.

It was my fault. All of this was my own stupid fault. My head fell forward slightly. They were dead. Drake had killed them because of me.

I didn't hear Drake's next question. So, he repeated it, "Bitch! Hello!" I looked up, "Why did you keep those handcuffs?" My eyebrows rose into an arc. "Yes, those are Kirill's handcuffs. I'd recognize them anywhere. He has them specially made."

That didn't surprise me. What did surprise me was that he knew where I had hidden the handcuffs in my bedroom. He definitely had been spying me out for some time. I hadn't touched those cuffs in months.

"Well, that shut up you quick," he said. He pulled the .45 out of his jacket, "I'm done playing games with you."

He aimed the gun at me. I sucked in a deep breath and shut my eyes. I didn't want to see it coming. Not from a guy like him. I exhaled and expected the quick sensation of pain. I heard the hammer click back. I started to pray. I heard the shot fire. I flinched but there was no pain. I waited several more seconds expecting that he was playing with me and had fired into the wall or something. I thought that maybe he was just waiting for me to open my eyes. I then heard a loud thump.

Ok, this didn't make sense. One eye peeked open. Then both shot open. My jaw dropped. _Kirill_. I couldn't breathe. He lowered the gun and stepped fully into the kitchen. He closed the door quietly behind him. He glanced around for a minute, "Had a busy night, sweetheart?"

It was then that I passed out cold.


	3. ch 3

I slowly came to. I was exhausted. I didn't even bother to open my eyes. I just wanted to sleep. I was in my bed that much I could tell. I was warm and extremely comfortable. My conscious level was rising gradually. My senses were coming back to me slowly.

I could now recall how awful and terrified I'd had been earlier, but all those feelings were gone. They were now replaced by a rather pleasing sensation trailing up my thigh. I leaned my head back and my lips curled into a small smile.

His tongue moved higher. He nipped lightly at the tender skin of my inner thigh. I sighed deeply, feeling my blood growing hotter. He chuckled in his deep melodic voice. "Good morning, Jack," he breathed against me.

After a few minutes, I had decided that this was the only way to wake up. I couldn't remember waking up so happy in quite a few years. Ah hell, I'm pretty sure that I've never woken up this happy in my entire life! I clenched at the sheet and arched up off of the mattress as his tongue swirled around my clit.

The delicious pressure was building. I savored every second. I moaned, my breathing became quicker and more labored. I was close now...so close. Then his very persuasive, very wicked tongue moved about a half an inch to the left.

I gasped at the sudden emptiness. He turned his efforts back to my thighs. He bent my right knee and kissed from my hip down. I had to suck a sharp breath. "Bastard," I said in a rather loving tone.

This apparently amused him greatly. He moved from between my legs entirely. I felt him lie at my side. He traced from my eyebrow, down my cheek, across my lower lip and onto my neck.

"C'mon, Jack, open your eyes," he whispered in between kisses.

I opened my eyes, then immediately shut them again. They were burning out of my head. I quickly rubbed at them, trying to sooth them enough so I could see.

I blinked several times. Kirill was leaning over me, eyebrows raised and a strangle little smirk on his face. I tried to sit up, an intense wave of nausea mixed with striking pain hit me.

I was on the leather couch in my living room. My head, legs and arms were throbbing. Kirill helped me sit up, "Okay. C'mon, Jack, you're okay."

"Is there still a dead man in my kitchen?" I asked, leaning back against his shoulder.

He laid a hand over my flushed forehead, "Of course there's a dead man in your kitchen. If there wasn't, you'd be dead in your kitchen."

This is when things started to sink in. There was a wanted assassin in my living room checking to see if I had a fever, a dead bad guy bouncer on the dining room floor...things like this only happen to me. I sat up completely, "You didn't get rid of him?"

He laughed. _LAUGHED_. I failed to see what was funny. There was a man dead in my kitchen! "Sweetheart, I can't get rid of him. Soon," he checked his watch, "Very soon, actually, when the morning shift arrives and your car is still in the garage, they will start asking questions. Is there delayed video surveillance in that garage?" he asked.

I nodded. "Then most likely they'll have tape of Drake abducting you. So, what we need to do is go take care of my prints and make it look like you shot him, okay?"

I stared at him. I blinked several times. I wanted to cry and he could tell. He pulled me into his lap and held me there for several minutes. He smoothed my frazzled hair and placed a kiss on the top of my head, "Come on now, Jack. We have a lot of work to do."


	4. ch 4

"Then he wiped all the prints clean, kissed me and left," I said. There it was all out. I sighed and looked at Chrissie. I could see that she was thinking. She was my best friend.

"Wow," she said. She paused, obviously trying to find the right words, "Well, he sounds hot."

He sounds hot? This is what I get? I shook my head in disgust. Leave it to Chrissie. I was devoid of all emotion at this time. For three days now, I had been crashing in Chrissie's apartment. I wasn't afraid of Kirill. Ok, maybe I was a little afraid. I feared what would happen when I saw him again. I had finally realized that I had very little self control around him. Any sense of morality, reason and sanity went out the window when those hazel eyes met mine.

"You recall how I told you that Kirill is a rogue Russian agent turned assassin, right?" I asked.

Chrissie scowled, "So?"

"He killed a man in my kitchen, and I'm pretty sure he enjoyed it," I spat out.

"You are always so literal, Jack!" I just blinked at her. A shocked chuckle escaped from my mouth. Too literal? Call me crazy but having a dead man in your kitchen is a literally traumatic and experience. "Besides, that ape-man was going to kill you!"

Ugh! Ok, she had a point there. I suppose it was either Drake or me, one of us was going to be shot. I, it seemed, draw the lucky lot. I was still alive, "I know. I know."

Chrissie rolled her eyes at me, "You're just mad at yourself because you like him when you probably shouldn't."

I really really wasn't in the mood to debate my feelings, or lack thereof, for Kirill. I was far to tired. I hadn't slept in almost two hours, which was rare for me these past few days. "I'm going to go to sleep. I'm tired," I said standing up.

"Ok, feel better, Jack. I'm worried about you. But, hey, Ben is coming up tomorrow, we'll hang and have some fun, ok?" Chrissie said with a small smile.

This did make me smile. Ben was Chrissie's fiancé. He worked in New York City. He was a district attorney. He was incredible and treated Chrissie like a princess. Ben was ok in my book. "Yeah, that sounds good. It will be good to see Ben again," I nodded.

"Good night!" Chrissie yelled out as I trudged into the guest room. I muttered something intelligible and headed to bed.


	5. ch 5

So this is how things were going. Ben came to stay for a couple of days. Chrissie was very happy; I tried to pretend as well as I could. Ben was completely understanding. He didn't ask questions, more importantly, he didn't make any judgments. He tried to be considerate and extremely supportive.

I really hadn't eaten much since I left my house. I was constantly on the edge of a very large gaping fissure just waiting for something or someone to finally tumble me into oblivion.

I was lounging in Chrissie's huge armchair. Chrissie and Ben were intertwined together on the couch. 'Whose Line is it anyway?' was running on the TV. Chrissie and Ben were hysterical watching Wayne Brady hump a chair. I wasn't really paying attention.

The burning incense stick on the table next to me caught and held my fleeting focus. I sucked in a deep breath, sweet smelling sage filling my senses. I wondered why they considered sage a calming scent. It didn't make me feel any better.

I sat there watching the silvery grey smoke rise sometimes in a steady linear stream, but other times it rose in snaking, twisting tendrils. I watched the spirals with fascination. How could something so smooth and straight become so wild and mysterious and unpredictable a second later? It vaguely registered in my mind that the phone rang in the background. I just kept staring at the smoke. The scent hadn't changed. The incense kept right on burning away. The only thing that had changed was direction, the path the smoke was on. Sometimes it decided to go straight as an arrow other times, it went all screwy. I started to wonder if life was kind of like this. Up to this point, my life had run fairly smooth. I had a great paying job, sure sometimes it called for me to take certain risks, but I enjoyed it...and I was great at it. Now, I had blown the case of my career and was most likely going to be sitting at a desk filing low level drug deals. Was this what I wanted? My next thought scared me...was Kirill what I wanted? And if I admitted this to anyone, myself included, could I ever really have him the way I wanted? How much was I willing to bet on him? He lived completely across the globe and killed people for a living. It occurred to me that I had a lot of questions to answer before I saw Kirill again. I watched the last puff escape from the stick as it went out. I sighed.

"Jack! Phone!" Chrissie screeched. I vaulted out of me seat, being ripped out of my own little universe. "Whoa there! Take is easy," she said handing me the phone.

"Who is it?" I asked before taking it.

Chrissie shrugged, "It sounds like your brother."

My brother? Daniel had no idea about anything that had happened; unless he talked to mom, in which case I was about to get a lecture. I grimaced and grabbed the phone, "Hey Dan, what's going on? Been a while since I've heard from you."

"Who the hell is Dan? And why in the hell aren't you at your place?"

I couldn't speak. I tore the phone away from my ear and looked at the screen. Sure enough, the caller id read "Jack Villerosi...(537) 757 2389. Mental head slap.

"Jack, who is hell is it?" Chrissie asked.

"Listen, I'll be over in a few minutes," I quickly said into the receiver. I hung up.

"Jack, what the hell is going on?" Ben asked as I quickly ran into my "room" to get my coat.

They both followed me in there. I threw my coat on, before Chrissie grabbed my shoulders. "Jack!" she screamed.

"It's ok, I've just got to go," I said running out of the room.

They chased me out of the apartment, Ben called out as I ran down the stairs, "Who was on the phone?"

"Check the caller id!" I answered. I sprinted out of the apartment complex towards my car.

My brakes squealed as I pulled into my driveway and parked next to a black Mercedes. I headed towards the back door. It was unsurprisingly unlocked. I walked in and closed the door softly behind me.

And there he was. We stared at each other for a few minutes. He looked good, as always. It looked as though he hadn't shaved in a day or two, but I thought that made him look sexier. Dressed head to toe in black, he was the epitome of gorgeous.

I spoke first, "Funny, I'm never at a loss for words."

Kirill replied, "You have nothing to say to me?"

Didn't he have anything to say to me? Jeez, why did I have to do all the talking here? I walked over to the cabinet, grabbed my bottle of vodka and took a quick sip. I was going to get through this even if I had to be drunk to do it, although I wasn't sure exactly what I wanted to say. I noticed that my kitchen had been cleaned, but more importantly re-furnished.

I began, "Well, I'm sorry. I've fucked things up for both of us."

He smiled, "I'm not sorry, fucking you was pretty amazing." I couldn't have put it better myself. I titled my head slightly and laughed. His smile disappeared, "What now?"

I shrugged, "I suppose I keep my desk job until my punishment is over. They might put me on another case after that."

"You sure that's what you want to do?" he asked.

That was the million dollar question, "That's all I know how to do."

Kirill stiffly straightened, "Take up residence in Europe. Italy, maybe or France."

"And do what there?" I questioned.

His face drew a blank, "Anything you want. I'll help you get settled..."

I immediately interrupted, "That sounds pretty conjugal, Kirill."

His smile sent chills up my spine, "Maybe, we'll have to see how things turn out. So, what do you say?"

Europe? Was this even something to consider? What, take a leave of absence? Just up-root and settle in Italy? Was he going to be there with me or was he going to drop in at his convenience? This was too much for me right now, "You think we can worry about that tomorrow?"

He nodded, "We can talk more about this tomorrow, sure. But what can we do to occupy ourselves tonight?"

"I can think of an idea or two."

About one minute and three seconds later...upstairs....

Our lips locked, my tongue massaged his; my hands traveled up to caress his neck and his shoulders. Tasting the already familiar confines of his mouth, I leaned further into him, getting as close as I could. He didn't move, almost as it he was waiting for me to make the next move. I leaned away from him and backed against the wall behind me. He followed pushing me up higher. One thigh found its away around his hip. With my hands balancing on his neck and shoulders, he moved his own directly to my nape, and his other hand caressed my cheek.

Slowly, exquisitely slowly, I brought my hands down to his chest, moving them under his shirt in long caresses over his muscles. My nails scraped over his nipples. Bringing my hands back down, I slowly pawed at his shirt. He moved a hand from my neck all the way down under my shirt and cupped my breast. He seemed to be re-familiarizing himself with it's weight and shape and size in the palm of his hand, feeling my nipple harden, he did this to both breasts in time.

I finally was able to get his shirt up off and tugged it off. We separated, both gasping for breath. I tossed his shirt onto the floor. He did the same with mine, leaving me in my red lace bra.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" He whispered, his eyes dark with arousal.

"I want you close to me, comfort me, Kirill. Your touch strangely comforts me," I replied weakly. I pulled him closer. His eyes met mine. Those hazel eyes looked different from last time. When I had seen them last, they were so shadowy with anger that they were almost brown, but now they were softer and I could see flecks of green.

He picked me up and laid me down softly onto my bed. I leaned back so he now lay on top of me. He went in for my mouth, deepening our kiss, giving my tongue long and slow massaging caresses. He was in control now and he knew it. I moaned into the kiss with want, and he started moving downwards, to the hollow of my throat.

"You know," he said between kisses, "Chrissie is going to wonder why you flew out of her apartment..." He unfastened my bra and it joined my shirt on the floor.

"I don't really care right now," I gasped, feeling him now moving towards my left breast, nibbling and licking his way around. His touch sent sparks through my body, setting me on fire, making me hotter, making me want him even more. Suddenly, he changed strategies and started flicking his tongue over the top of my nipple. Starting out slow and then gaining more and more speed.  
"Uhnnn," I cried out. He stopped and I groaned in deep disappointment. He chuckled.

"Kirill...Kirill, please," I said, panting slightly. He grinned devilishly, moving his hand back to my face, caressing my cheek. Moving his thumb close to my mouth, he waited till I turned my head, my lips sensually brushing against his thumb. He groaned.

He moved his hand downward, tracing circles around my navel lightly, making me giggle. He slowed down slightly. I felt that heat building up again with every touch and caress. I tried to calm myself, concentrating on my breathing.

Kirill snickered at this. "So what exactly do you want from me, my baby?" He teased, moving his hand away from my navel to stroke my inner thigh. My concentration broke, my breathing more uneven and erratic than before. My head flooded with the thoughts of where his hands could go, what they could do.

"Kirill, please, Make love to me," I begged, moaning as he teased me by moving his hand slightly between my legs.

"These jeans have to go," He undid the buttons; his eyes focused on mine as he pulled the pants away. He glanced down ever so quickly. Maybe he liked my matching lacy panties. He looked back up at me desperately, "Why do you do this to me?"

I just laughed quickly but was silenced just as quick. I felt the lacy material sliding down my thighs. I moaned. He wasn't unaffected from my moan. His hand slid between my thighs. My eyes closed and I exhaled slowly.

This isn't what I wanted, not that it wasn't enjoyable. I wanted him. I sat up. He knew what I wanted now. He took his hands off me long enough to unbutton and unzip his pants.

"Kirill?" I asked, sitting up further up to see him. He looked into my eyes as he got himself up off the bed, letting me enjoy the show. Slowly, he started pushing his pants down, off of his hips. Then off his thighs, finally down to his feet. Smirking, he bent down to take them off. I rose up more. Finally, he pulled down his boxers and let me look my full.

"Kirill," I simply said. I opened my arms in invitation for him to come back to bed. That was all he needed, he crawled back on top of me, locking me in another passionate kiss, my blood was boiling in my veins. "Kirill, please..." I whispered into the kiss.

My hand moved lower from his chest to settle on his tight stomach. He groaned. I wanted him so bad. I couldn't explain it, this wasn't logical, but I just didn't care anymore.

"Jack..." He merely gasped into my mouth, moving his hands away from my face and head. My hips rose; I opened my legs beneath him, and he broke the kiss to look down, groaning at the sight of my overly-willing body.

Moving in between my legs, he looked me in the eyes, his breathing ragged, his body wild with heat and passion and asked, "Are you sure about this? You've been through a lot lately, I don't want to upset you further."

Upset me? UPSET ME? I laughed huskily. I pulled him down to me, "Kirill, shut up; make me happy."

"It would be my pleasure," he choked out. He pushed himself into me. Filling me completely, I gasped with pleasure. Reaching down between us, he found my clit, stroking it with steady rhythmic movements. He continued stroking me faster and faster as he plunged in and out of me.

"Kirill!" I cried, out climaxing, just as he pushed himself all the way in for the final time. He pressed his lips against mine. I cried out in ecstasy as my orgasm swept over me. Suddenly, he shuddered against me and let his release take him. We pulled apart ever so slightly, breathing raggedly, and the next thing I knew, I was crying. With him still inside me, I leaned forward, crying into his shoulder.

Knowing I was crying, he whispered softly, "Those had better be happy tears."

I laughed, "Yes, happy tears." He withdrew out of me. He laid me down below him, still comforting me even if he didn't know it. Feeling the comfort of his body over mine, I finally left safe again with his weight and his heat.

We lay together, slowly I felt his breathing slow. My fingertips trailed along the muscles of his back. What had happened to me? What had this man done differently? It boggled my mind really, but I suppose I could work all these questions out later. Hmmm...maybe in Europe? 'Yeah, I'm pretty sure I could work on these questions there' I smiled. I leaned my head back onto the pillow, I could get used to this a regular basis.

The End


End file.
